


what's left of my heart is still made of gold

by mondkind



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Catra (She-Ra)-centric, F/F, Fluff, Post-Season/Series 05, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:29:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24223579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mondkind/pseuds/mondkind
Summary: She doesn’t know at what point she realized she didn’t want to be angry anymore, didn’t want the power that came with destroying the Rebellion, didn’t want to be alone. She doesn’t know when wanting Adora became the only thing on her mind, the only coherent thought she could manage.If she could stop and think about it, maybe it’s just been there her whole life.orCatra, after the war.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 485





	what's left of my heart is still made of gold

> we are made of our longest days
> 
> we are falling but not alone
> 
> we will take the best parts of ourselves
> 
> and make them gold
> 
> — make them gold, CHVRCHES
> 
> and deep down, I'm still a child
> 
> playful eyes, wide and wild
> 
> i can't lose hope
> 
> what's left of my heart's still made of gold
> 
> — rainbow, kesha

On Catra’s first time on Mara’s ship, Adora sleeps besides her, hair loose around her face and hands near Catra’s. She doesn’t scoot closer, even after being on Adora’s arms earlier in the day, clutching so tight on her jacket she feared she could rip it; even after feeling Adora’s hand on her cheeks, soft after so long of holding a sword on the other side of the war. 

And— and she is not sure of how much of her is sleeping and how much of her is actually awake, how much of her is dreaming and how much of her is still under the influence of Horde Prime, but she feels Adora’s fingers curling on hers and she holds it. She doesn’t open her eyes —doesn’t dare to— but she feels it the same way she did back in the Fright Zone. Adora’s calloused hands fit like it was made for her, but she doesn’t name it. A lot of things about Adora seems like were made for her to hold and love, but she doesn’t let herself think about it. 

When she wakes up then, flashes burning on her eyelids and head and neck, she expects to find the other side of the bed cold and empty. She doesn’t expect Adora to come barging in, worried eyes focused on her as she steps closer, hands like an offering. 

And— and when Catra closes herself again, it feels wrong somehow, but she doesn’t name it.

  
  
  


When Catra opens her eyes now, Adora is sleeping. And she’s seen Adora sleep for a whole life, but it feels different now. Now, they don’t have the weight of a war on their shoulders; there isn’t a threat anymore, Horde Prime is gone and Etheria is ready to rebuild itself. Now, Adora sleeps softly, curled up against Catra’s chest. 

When Catra reaches and touches her face, she doesn’t stir. There were no nightmares today, no more flashes. Today, she leans forward and closes her eyes again, nose buried in Adora’s hair. There’s no heaviness on her chest— because, when she wakes up again, she knows Adora will be there.

  
  
  


Catra’s not sure how it came to it. How she went from wanting to burn the world to the ground and then saving Glimmer— and doing it for Adora. She doesn’t know at what point she realized she didn’t want to be angry anymore, didn’t want the power that came with destroying the Rebellion, didn’t want to be alone. She doesn’t know when wanting Adora became the only thing on her mind, the only coherent thought she could manage.

If she could stop and think about it, maybe it’s just been there her whole life. She remembers pieces of her earlier years, but she doesn’t really remember a time in the Horde where it wasn’t about Adora. She can’t see a life, a version of their story where she doesn’t end up falling for Adora. And maybe that’s all it’s about, in the end.

Adora is sleeping on the bed besides her, melog on her feet. Their hands are intertwined between the beds and she doesn’t know how it came to it— doesn’t know how to try and pretend that she doesn’t wanna lean forward and kiss Adora’s fingers, that it doesn’t break her heart that Adora has to always be the big hero, and never gets to be just hers. Maybe, in another universe, another version of their story, Adora would stay.

Maybe, in another universe, another version of their story, Catra wouldn’t be the one to walk away.

But here, she does.

  
  
  


“What time is it?”

Catra turns to Adora, rubbing her eyes and stretching her arms while still linked to Catra. She stops, pauses, then smiles bright as ever, blue eyes focused on Catra. And Catra mirrors her, because now she  _ can _ , because she knows she can reach and Adora will answer— she knows that Adora is there, and there’s no planning on getting away. 

“Early”, she mumbles, “go back to sleep.”

“Maybe.”

Adora lays on her back, exhaling. “It doesn’t feel real that I truly have nothing to do. I mean, it’s not  _ nothing,  _ but there isn’t a war going on and—”

Catra reaches and covers her mouth with one finger. She leans in, foreheads touching. “We  _ have  _ nothing to do.”

“Yeah”, she smiles. “It’s still weird to say it, though.”

She grabs Catra’s hand, fingers intertwined to her chest. And there’s a look— that it’s not like Catra couldn’t  _ imagine _ , but she still would never have guessed, or wouldn’t let herself think that maybe, maybe Adora felt the same. If it took so long for her to realize it  _ herself _ , maybe the same thing happened to Adora, after all. 

“You have to let yourself rest.” Catra says. “After everything. And just  _ enjoy. _ ”

“Enjoy you?”, she asks, brows raised. Catra ignores the heat in her cheeks.

“ _ Yeah,  _ but also, Bright Moon can be a really nice place, you know?”

Adora’s laugh echoes through the room and Catra concludes that  _ this  _ is peace. “ _ Wow,  _ I think you’re spending too much time with Glimmer and Bow.”

“Yes, I am. Please rescue me before i start wearing  _ lavender. _ ”

“You would look good in lavender.” Adora lowers her voice.

“We both know that’s not true.” 

She leans in again, lips brushing Adora’s face. It seems impossible to be closer than they already are, but Catra gives it a try nonetheless. 

And then Adora does it— the face, the look she’s been giving Catra since they were just kids, just girls that fought and laughed and looked away when the other did it. Catra thinks about all the times she stopped and just let her eyes rest on Adora’s figure, from afar, bubbling on her chest and then looked away. She thinks about growing up on the Horde, skin getting rough and mask getting heavy, at the same time her heart got light and something flourished on her stomach when Adora said her name. Two constants, intertwined, that somehow got her here.

And now she  _ knows.  _

“You’re doing that face again.” 

And here’s the thing — so does Adora.

“Yeah? What face?” 

There’s a smug look on her face now, brows raised and lips curled. 

“Shut  _ up _ ”, she squeals, “You’re insufferable.”

She tries to turns, but Adora is quicker and she wasn’t really trying that hard at  _ all _ . Adora’s hands are on her wrists and then she falls to the side, arms on Catra’s waist and leans in again. 

“Is it because you love me  _ so much? _ ”

  
  
  


Catra knew horror. 

After all, she did grow up on the Fright Zone under the cares of Shadow Weaver. She knew fear and danger. She learned anger. She thinks that, maybe now if she could lay down the past ten years of her life, she could create names and names for every time she felt like she could get stabbed on the heart and it wouldn’t matter.

But there was Adora. And then there was the sword, and she learned betrayal — or at least she thought she did. 

After the portal, it felt like someone reached into her chest and pulled her heart, squeezed it until it would no longer beat. She knew the look on Adora’s face, after. She knew there was no going back after this, that Adora would hate her forever and after, that she had  _ lost.  _

She knew hopelessness and despair. But nothing could’ve prepared her to be ready to die when the Horde fell; to try one last time and end up as an experiment to Prime; to feel Adora slip through her fingers in the Heart of Etheria. Maybe that’s the most she as ever felt, in all of her life — too much feeling and nothing to do, the static of it all. Nothing in the world could’ve prepared her to the possibility of losing Adora again, right in front of her eyes, against her body. 

But she didn’t. 

Perfuma was right, in the end. It wasn’t easy letting her heart open and vulnerable. It wasn’t easy to spit out your feelings to the void and hope for the best. But she had always been strong and brave— and maybe there could be braveness in being soft. 

Adora opened her eyes and here, laid on her arms, green marking her face, tired and messy and breathing again after a whole war, Catra thought it was the most beautiful she had ever been. 

“You’re such an idiot”, she had said, because how could Adora not  _ know  _ after all that time, and maybe she could just play it like friendship but—

“I love you too.”

It was the same look she gave Catra when they were kids. The same look she gave Catra when they woke up in a twisted dimension that spilled her feelings in front of her and crushed them; the same look Adora had been giving her every day since the ship. And, maybe, she had been giving the exact same one.

So, she brushed her thumb on Adora’s cheek and leaned it.

  
  
  


Kissing Adora felt like finally speaking a language after learning it for so long. It felt foreign and familiar at the same time, and undoubtedly something made for them. It felt like inventing something— every time they kiss her chest feels like it could explode with words for all the feelings on her lips. Kissing Adora, now, in  _ their  _ bedroom, feels like the start of something— a new beginning for something they could grow together. 

Adora smiles against Catra’s mouth and there’s playful hands on her arms and a growing purr on her chest. There’s Adora, here, looking at her like Catra is the only thing that matter, eyes so wide open that Catra almost feels scared. She could, maybe, before— but not anymore. Not when she knows love, when she knows  _ being  _ loved, belonging. Not when she knows healing, when everything that she is experiencing right now is because she reached out and Adora did too. Because she leaned and kissed Adora chapped lips and nothing was the same after it. 

And she didn’t want to know it any other way.

“You’re still an idiot”, she says, hands combing Adora’s hair.

“Yeah”, Adora smiles, “you’re in love with an idiot. That must be  _ so  _ embarrassing for you.”

She smiles again. All she does now is smile, and she could say that she kinda likes it but— here, Adora’s chin on her chest, heart bubbling up whenever they touched, legs tangled together and the whole place being for them, for as long as they  _ want _ , because now they have  _ time _ — she actually loves it very much.

**Author's Note:**

> this is purely self indulgent also noelle added new songs to catra and adora's playlist and catradora is CANON  
> [tumblr](http://%20angelselectric.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/catriadora)


End file.
